The Invader of Peace
by MSCSIFANGSR
Summary: Bruno keeps barking at the back door. Fluffy GSR Beware. A response Chadini's Las Vegas Metro Crime Code Challenge #5 403 Prowler


TITLE: The Invader of Peace

AUTHOR: MSCSIFANGSR aka Chauncey10

PAIRING: G/S

RATING: Teen

SUMMARY: Bruno keeps barking at the back door. GSR Fluff.

DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them.

NOTES: An answer to Chadini's LVMPD Crime Code Challenge #5: 403 Prowler

SPOILERS: Every episode aired in the US to be safe.

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Bruno sniffed at the bottom of the closed door frame in the kitchen and began to bark quite excitedly.

Not a "I'm glad my man is home from work" or a "The mailman is here;" or even "There's a cat outside, please let me out, so I can chase it," but a full-fledged, all-out, loud sharp explosive charge, repeated, over and over again.

Grissom looked toward the kitchen wondering why the dog was so apparently upset. The commotion from the dog had disturbed his peaceful evening at home on his night off.

Bruno barked for a full minute before Grissom looked up from his cross-word puzzle and yelled, unceremoniously, "Shut up dog."

Bruno quieted immediately and Grissom looked back down at his newspaper, and filled in another blank with the gel pen in his right hand and then flicked the edge of his glasses with the pen as he studied the puzzle in more depth.

Bruno looked at his man and sniffed again. Stifling a bark, a yelp came out instead. Bruno ran over to the doggy door and began to bark again.

Grissom got up from his comfortable spot on the couch, padded barefoot into the kitchen, and swatted Bruno on his hunches, with the folded newspaper. Bruno looked up at his usually gentle master, saddened by the what he thought was an unprovoked attack by the man.

"Bad dog. No!" Gil commanded. Grissom looked out the window on the back door, saw nothing and went back to the couch.

Bruno, with tail tucked between his legs, sat, staring at the back door.

Bruno sat, rigidly still for a few moments, as his man returned to the comfort of his hobby.

A few minutes later, the dog heard a scraping noise close to the back door. He bolted through the kitchen to the back door and began wholeheartedly barking at the noise.

Grissom wondered what his dog was barking at this time. He got up and walked into the dimly lit kitchen to see what Bruno was so excited about.

"Maybe Sara's come home," he thought to himself, also very excitedly.

But he stifled that thought, because Sara wouldn't come in the back door when she came home, she would come through the front.

At least he hoped she would come home. And soon. He missed her. Yes, Mr. "I don't know what to do about this", missed having a woman in his home. Not just a woman, but his woman. He had laid claim to Sara Sidle longer than he had even realized himself. But right now, she was gone to face her own demons, as he patiently waited for her return.

Bruno continued to bark, sniff at the closed off doggy door, bark, sniff, and bark again. Then move to the door frame again, sniff and bark some more.

Bruno quit barking when Grissom entered the room, looking quite ashamed of himself for his outburst.

Grissom looked out the back door window and saw much to his delight, not Sara Sidle, nor a cat, but a pile of freshly disturbed dirt that indicating a burrowing 'Talpidae' in the order 'Soricomorpha' or more commonly known as a mole.

His cell phone blared. Grissom groaned. He wasn't in the mood to go back to work. He just wanted to relax for a time, go to sleep, and then head back to work. Work and Bruno were the only things keeping him from going crazy without Sara, but work would have to wait.

"If this is Jim, I'm telling him no," he thought as he lifted the offending phone to his ear, not bothering to look at the caller id.

"Grissom," he said gruffly.

The voice at the other end was not Jim Brass, it was much too sweet. "Hello, Gilbert."

"Sara," he breathed her name into the receiver. He imagined her fresh from a shower, towel drying her hair, while covered in her pink terry cloth robe, lounging on the bed in her hotel room.

"What are you doing?" Her question caught him a little off guard.

"I was about to call the PD to report a 403," he said with a slight chuckle.

"Why?" Concern filled her voice.

"Bruno wouldn't quit barking at the back door. I thought maybe it was you for a minute, but I reasoned you would call first and then when you arrived, you would enter through the front door, not the back. You're not here, by the way, are you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not," Her tone seemed sad. "But what was Bruno barking at; did we have a prowler?"

"Not of the human variety. It was a mole, digging in the back yard." The sound of her laughter was music to Grissom's ears. He missed the sound of her voice, her laughter, her presence mostly. "I think Bruno misses you."

"Why do you say that?" Sara's voice seemed to have moved away from the phone.

"I miss you; he misses you; we're in the same boat, he and I." He sounded humbled.

"Awww, Gil. I miss you two very much." He heard the kiss through the many miles that separated them and almost physically felt it upon his lips. "Give that to the mutt."

"No," he replied.

"Why not?" Sara questioned.

"All your kisses are mine, my love," Grissom declared.

"I love you, too Bugman. And I will see my two favorite men very soon." He heard her laughter again, He smiled.

After they had talked about everything and nothing for a very long time, Gil heard her yawn. "I'll let you go to get some sleep."

"Goodnight, sweet prince," she purred.

"Goodnight, my love," as he had said every time they ended their conversations since she had gone to San Francisco.

When Grissom ended the call, he heard the sound of Bruno sniffing at the kitchen door again. When the dog began to bark, excitedly, Grissom smiled and turned off the lights in the living room and made his way upstairs toward the bedroom. He called to the dog as he reached the top step.

"Come on, Bruno. Let's go to bed. Leave our invader in peace."

THE END

A/N2 Sorry, but I really have a mole in my front yard and my dog Max barks at it all the time. I don't know if moles inhabit Nevada, but hey, this is fiction. :) Reviews are regarded as gifts.


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